


Summer Games

by Miss_M



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_M/pseuds/Miss_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne suffers from mosquito bites. Jaime offers relief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Games

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Brienne watched her tormentor over the current-events segment of the _Crownlands Courier_ in her hands. 

Slowly, almost without making a rustle, she folded the already folded newspaper, then folded it again, until she held in her right hand a thick club of thin newsprint. She saw Jaime’s amused expression out of the corner of her eye, ignored it. He lounged on the bed beside Brienne and made no move to help her, but he also refrained from comment while Brienne tried to sit up without moving her legs or losing the newspaper club in her hand. 

Once she was sitting more or less upright, she whacked her right calf with the newspaper, without hesitation or delay. 

A quick scan of the newsprint revealed no small, squashed black body or telltale smear of blood. A moment later, as though mocking her efforts, the thin whine of a mosquito sounded near Brienne’s ear. She swiped the air with the newspaper to no effect, blew air out of her nose loudly. The spot on her calf where the mosquito had been was already swelling up and turning an angry shade of red. 

Jaime flipped over the sports-and-entertainment pages of the _Courier_.

“You’re losing your touch,” he said, eyes on the Westeros Netball League results, the corner of his lips twitching in mirth. “You killed three of them last night.”

Brienne rubbed the sore spot on her calf with the pads of her fingers. When that brought her no relief – not that she had expected any, she had far too much experience in the matter – she gave in and scratched, hesitantly at first, then with an almost sensual pleasure. 

As soon as she stopped scratching, the tingling-itching-burning sensation doubled in intensity, and the sore spot seemed to grow even redder and more swollen. 

Groaning, Brienne threw herself back on the bed, trying in vain to ignore the fresh mosquito bite. It was easy for Jaime to tease – mosquitos seemed to bite only Brienne, never him. She already had several older bites dotted up and down the length of her legs; the worst one, on the back of her left thigh, was the size of a five-dragon coin. They all started pulsing in furious rhythm with the freshest bite.

“It’s not fair,” Brienne said darkly. “They never go for you.” 

Still lying down, she raised her right leg and thrashed it in the air above the bed, hoping for a breeze through the open window to cool the sting. The thin curtains remained motionless, the still summer air offering her no relief.

Brienne stopped thrashing and lowered her leg when she saw Jaime biting his lip in an effort not to laugh at how ridiculous she looked. 

“I can’t help it if the ravenous beasts prefer young maidens’ blood,” Jaime said. At least he was sitting up and maybe about to fetch the soothing ointment from the drawer on Brienne’s side of the bed.

Jaime studied Brienne’s calf with the red welt on it. “Hmm. I think it’s time for a foolproof folk remedy,” he said. 

Brienne half-smiled. She knew she was about to be teased, but that was no bad thing. “What might that be?” 

Jaime looked her in the eye, and her breath caught. His expression barely changed, but Brienne knew him well. He watched her while he wrapped his hand around her ankle and raised her calf off the bed. 

He did not break eye contact until Brienne was tense with anticipation, then he lowered his head and licked the patch of irritated skin on her calf, slowly, with the flat of his tongue. Jaime examined the mosquito bite, hummed low in his throat, and licked again. This time, Brienne could not restrain the sigh which escaped her or the way she simply had to shift her entire body on the bed. 

Jaime pursed his lips and blew on the red, wet skin, the cooling sensation like a blessing. Still blowing, he looked at Brienne, who knew she was breathing loudly through her mouth as she watched him. Jaime batted his eyelashes as he inhaled and blew again. 

Brienne felt her neck and face grow warmer. “Jaime.”

“Yes?” He was not watching her, too busy pondering her calf. His saliva had dried and it was starting to itch again, as were the other mosquito bites on her legs.

“You… Why… You always turn everything into…”

Green eyes. All that time, and Brienne still felt like she might drown in them sometimes. “ _What_ do I turn everything into?”

 _Foreplay._ “A game.” 

Jaime raised his eyebrows. “Why yes, you’re right. Games are so inappropriate.” He waggled his eyebrows and swung Brienne’s leg gently in his grip. “We must be dead serious about such grave matters as mosquito bites.” 

Brienne scrambled for a response, but nothing would come fast enough except a giggle as Jaime playing with her leg caused her to slide down her pillow. 

“Let me,” she started to say, had to break off when Jaime progressed from dandling her leg to tickling her torso. She squealed and twisted sideways, unwilling to use the advantage of two hands, not when she did not really want him to stop, and wound up facing her bedside drawer, with Jaime’s good hand and most of the newspaper trapped under her. “Let me get that ointment and you can spread it on me, if you like.” 

Jaime rested his head on Brienne’s shoulder and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Ointment. How very serious. Gimme.” 

The ointment was a thick, pale-green, transparent gel with a strong scent of aloe, and it came in a white tube. Jaime freed his hand and snatched the tube out of Brienne’s hand. He unscrewed the top with his teeth, squeezed a dollop onto Brienne’s calf, and dropped the tube on the sheets.

Brienne rescued it before they wound up sleeping in aloe-gel’d sheets, while Jaime rubbed the gel in with a gentle, circular motion. Brienne sighed and closed her eyes as relief set in. 

“Roll over,” Jaime said. “There’s too much for one spot, I can put some on the older bites.”

He clicked his tongue when he saw the coin-sized bite on the back of Brienne’s thigh. 

“High time to install that mosquito net around the bed,” he muttered. 

Brienne couldn’t tell if or how much he was joking. “I’d prefer a mesh on the window and a fixed A/C unit like we were promised.”

“Very serious,” Jaime grumbled as he rubbed the back of her thigh. “So serious.”

“I…” Brienne paused, licked her lips. “I didn’t mean to imply I wished they’d bite you. It just… It shouldn’t be so unpleasant, for such a small thing.” 

A sticky finger raised the hem of Brienne’s T-shirt. Warm lips pressed against the small of her back, just by her waistband. Stubble tickled. 

“Too serious,” Jaime crooned in her ear as he stretched out beside her, his aloe-scented hand curving around her waist to press against her stomach and play with her shorts. Brienne grinned as his hairy legs tangled with her sticky ones, while a low, buzzing drone near the bed failed to disturb her at all.


End file.
